"I think we should get John's advice."

Pregnant pause. “Thank you, no."

"Nelson, be reasonable. John's an FBI agent. Surely-"

"Brenda, the FBI is absolutely the last thing we need."

"I don't mean officially. He wouldn't have any jurisdiction in Tahiti anyway. But he'd know about this sort of thing; it's his job."

"Absolutely not. Out of the question."

Brenda sighed again, which she did frequently when speaking with her older brother. Nelson had a way about him that made it next to impossible to have a simple difference of opinion with him. All you could do was have a fight with him. Either that, or give in.

"Nelson, John's part of the family too. For God's sake, he's our brother. He's your brother. He has a right-"

"Brenda, no. There's nothing John can do. He wasn't involved before, and nothing's going to be served by getting him involved now. That's the crux of it."

No, that wasn't the crux. The crux was that the FBI agent in the family was Baby Brother; a baby brother who, like Brenda, took more after the Hawaiian side of the family than the Chinese. Consequently, John was five inches taller and sixty muscular pounds heavier than Nelson, with umpteen light years more-well, presence. When John was in a room you noticed him. Nelson could swing from the light fixtures by his teeth and have a hard time getting anyone to notice.

As a child, being four years older, Nelson had been the more dominant one, and if he hadn't been exactly despotic, he had been pretty damned high-handed; with Brenda too, for that matter. Then John had hit puberty and things had turned around, and Nelson had never gotten over it. To ask John for help was for Nelson an unnatural act. And he was never going to change.

"All right, Nelson,” she said, “all right."

"Brenda, I mean it! Now I want you to promise me. No John."